


let the human in

by justsleepwalkin



Series: the night kept coming [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Body Horror, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Future Fic, Horror, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monsters, Multiple Storylines, POV Multiple, Pyromania, Rated For Violence, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6360745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsleepwalkin/pseuds/justsleepwalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Followup to <i>poison</i>.</p><p>This beast moves his limbs and dictates destruction and once, once that was Mick. Mick longed for that masterpiece that was Star City 2046, out of reach. He dreamed of it. Could taste in on his tongue, days later. It was his lullaby. His goal. His <i>everything</i>.</p><p>Mick feels sick and for the first time, he hears Len's voice: “Mick, Mick <i>don't</i>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the human in

**Author's Note:**

> Half prequel, half sequel of _poison_ , melded together. I wouldn't recommend reading this without reading the other piece, first. 
> 
> I contemplated having this fully from Mick's PoV but I decided to alternate, hoping it'd help differentiate past and present. Though it gets a little..... fuzzy towards one of the end scenes. 
> 
>  
> 
> plants awoke and they slowly grow  
> beneath the skin  
> so breathe in, breathe out  
> let the human in  
> -Human by Of Monsters and Men  
> [(♫)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0EnrFe3Zb6k)

The only one Mick should be opening his front door to is Lenny, so when he opens it to Rip Hunter, there's a knife held low at his side, hidden from view by the doorframe. “Hunter,” he grumbles, face twisting in disgust. He hasn't seen the captain in a very long time, but he remembers their last encounter. Always will, stuck in him like a buried splinter. 

Hunter was a right mess then.

He looked like hell, now.

“Mr. Rory,” Hunter manages to say, like he's pulling teeth to do it. And isn't that just nice, the prick can't even talk to him. 

Mick sighs, stepping back, still holding to the knife. Lenny wouldn't want him to do anything rash, and _he_ managed to put up with Hunter for so long, so Mick can at least try to be cordial. “First tell me how you got here,” Mick says.

“Gideon,” Hunter answers.

Mick nods because sure, that makes sense. Ship's got more of a head than Hunter. 

“Fine, whatever. I can offer you a drink?” A peace offering. He can do this. “Made it myself.” He likes having hobbies. The offer makes Hunter more strained than before and wow, Mick could've fooled himself about how much they hate each other, but Hunter's making it next-to impossible. “Come on.” He opens the door and lets Hunter walk in, always keeping the Time Master in sight.

Hunter doesn't take his hands out of his jackets' pockets and Mick reasons that Hunter can't even risk touching him, and that's fine. Mick's not a touchy person, anyway. He leads Hunter to the kitchen, setting the knife down along the way. The kitchen's one of the more open rooms sharing the dining space and living room, large floor-to-ceiling windows showing the view that Mick's grown to love. 

Mick hated it at first, being out here. He'd shoved Len one too many times in retaliation, saying the man shoulda just shot him, that it would've been better than _abandonment_ , and Len just took it, let Mick get it out of his system. Mick even went as far to knock him completely out one day, blood wet from Len's nose, and Mick really thought he'd killed him. He was quiet, after Len woke up. Didn't apologize, but he stopped lashing out. It took longer for Len to relax again around him, but that was alright. Mick understood.

It was a shit predicament, and Mick hated adapting, but it was a plan that slowly came together. 

Mick opens the fridge and pulls out a glass bottle from the back and hands it to Hunter. “'s'got maple sap in it, 'stead of honey.”

When Hunter finally pulls a hand out of his pocket, Mick flinches back and sets the bottle down, switching to high alert. “The fuck?” he demands, because Hunter's palm is completely sliced up, black blood clotted, dried, and frayed. His hand's shaking, and Mick swears that his skin is _moving_ , but it must just be an illusion of sorts. “I got something for that,” he tells Hunter, and turns away, intending to stalk off and get a first aid kit, but his haste broke his cardinal rule of keeping Hunter in his sights, and the Time Master closes in on him quickly.

Mick feels a needle at his neck and something injected in.

“I'm sorry,” Hunter's voice shakes. “I can't hold it in.”

Mick slams around, knocking Hunter back with a sweep of his arm. The syringe falls from Hunter's grasp and clatters to the floor. Mick can see both Hunter's hands now, both equally damaged and _yeah_ , Mick's eyes aren't messing with him, that skin is _moving_ , like it's got a life of its own. 

Whatever Hunter injected him with, Mick can feel it slither through his body.

“What the hell did you do to me?” Mick roars. His skin's burning, burning, burning. It's like he's back in that fire, back when he _discovered himself_ , except this isn't quite the same, this is internal, eating him from the inside out and he screams at Hunter, storming forward, grabbing him. “ _Answer me_!”

“I wish I could. I'm sorry. I can't... I don't...”

* * *

Mick's hiss of pain snaps Len awake so much more than the sudden burning against his arm. They'd taken to lounging on the porch's couch, Len reading, Mick with an arm slung over Len's shoulders. Somewhere along the way Len nodded off, but Mick's taut with pain and though Len's blurry with sleep, he's quickly trying to chase it away.

“Mick? Mick, what's wrong?”

Mick pulls his arm off Len, and Len swears, reaching out to touch the blackening skin, but the increasing burn sears at his fingertips. 

“How is this happening?” Len whispers. “The blood transfusion... I thought that fixed things?” 

“I remember,” Mick rumbles at him. He rubs his thumb over the blackened skin, familiar scales forming over it, entranced. The heat doesn't seem to hurt him, like it hurts Len. “I remember Hunter showing up. He was fighting, everything. Thought he just didn't like me.”

“That's—that's good you remember, Mick, but we gotta— _dammit_ —we gotta get you back to STAR Labs and have them—I don't know—” Why was this happening? Didn't they get Savage's blood out of Mick's system?

“It's okay, Lenny.”

Len feels a few hundred protests fighting to be voiced. He's on his feet, unsteady, a restlessness in his limbs. His gaze on Mick's arm is fleeting at best, and he wishes Mick would follow his example, not stare at the scales like he would stare at a flame. “It's _not_ okay,” he grits out. 

“I can control it.”

Len's gaze snaps to him, stricken. “Mick, this isn't—”

Mick's told him something like that before. Len listened, skeptical, but he listened. And then it got bad and Len wasn't sure he could do that again, to either of them.

“It's not like fire, Lenny. I promise.” 

Len watches, and his tension starts to fade when Mick's skin returns to normal.

“See?”

“Mick, it can't be that easy.”

Mick shrugs a shoulder. “You're over-thinking.”

Of course he's over-thinking. If this has relapsed for Mick, what's to say it hasn't for Sara and the others? This is _dangerous_ , doesn't Mick realize it? 

“STAR Labs should—”

Mick stands up, waving Len off with a hand, and heads back inside. Len licks at his lips and waits a few minutes before following, unable to let this go. “You said you remember Rip. He wasn't in control? Mick, even if you've had this thing pulled out of you before, it doesn't mean you won't end up like Rip!”

There's a counter between him and Mick, which Len thinks is a good thing after Mick looks at him with such an angry glare. Len holds his ground, but a shudder runs through him.

“You're scared of me,” Mick says darkly. 

Len lets out a breath of frustration. “It's not as simple as that.”

Mick slams a fist down on the countertop. “It's exactly simple as that!”

“ _Listen to me_ —”

* * *

Mick's head is cloudy and Hunter's long gone, the coward. Can't even stay to watch the results of what he did to Mick, whatever that is. Mick feels stranded in his own home, standing on tile floor because the last time his feet touched wood, it began to smoke and instead of being fascinated, he was terrified. His clothing's long since burned away from his own skin. He tried to phone Lenny—well, alert him. Not so much a phone as it is an emergency signal that trips every communication device Len owns. The plastic had melted from Mick's touch, warped and molten. 

He recognizes, through his mental fog, that this isn't going to stop, but there's nowhere for him to go. Still, he rather try to save the house. Len and him built this place... He's not about to let it go because of something Hunter did to him.

Mick makes it two steps before his legs give out and he's on his hands and knees, choking, but what comes up isn't bile like he expects, it's a fiery liquid. He stares as it drips onto the floor and knows that he should be dead if that's coming from him, and fuck, what's happening to him? He touches the dollop of liquid and it doesn't hurt, even though he knows it should. _He knows_ , but everything's wrong. 

He tries to stand, fails, and opts for crawling across the floor. The moment he's away from the tile, the wood starts to burn and Mick hates it. _He hates it_ , and he never thought that would happen. Instead, he's downright fucking scared, and it's no better when he finally pulls himself to his feet, because he sees his reflection and half his skin is black, like it's charred, and it's changing, crawling—

Like Hunter's. Hunter's skin was doing freaky things and—

Mick yells in agony, bones twisting under his skin and he swallows down a sob right before the pain gets the better of him and this time when he falls, he doesn't get back up.

* * *

“I ain't gonna listen to a word you say to me,” Mick spits out, and the vitriol disorients Len. 

“Mick, I'm scared _for_ you right now, don't you understand?” Len pleads. He's trying to sort through this, sort through Mick. He had thought that they were finally on equal footing, finally back to being able to read one another. Right now? Len can't read his partner at all. 

“I understand that you don't trust me.”

Len shakes his head. “Mick—” He cuts himself off this time, without Mick's help. 

Mick jerks away, shaking his head. “No. How am I supposed to trust _myself_ if _you_ don't have any in me?”

“Mick, this isn't—”

“You have to leave,” Mick tells him. He turns away from Len, and Len's tension skyrockets. “What are you waiting for?”

“ _Mick_ , please.” Len steps towards him, but Mick won't allow him to get close, keeping too much distance between them. The gears start turning in Len's head, working out the puzzle with what he's been given. 

“I won't tell you again, Snart,” Mick growls in warning, ready to snap.

“Okay.” Len holds his hands up in forfeit and finally backtracks, giving Mick his desired space. “Okay,” he says again. A quick scan of his eyes over Mick and he can recognize how antsy he is. Mick doesn't get twitchy, not like this. He can be impatient, sure, but this isn't _healthy_. Mick's hiding something. Pushing Len away as far as he can manage. 

Len closes his eyes, breathes in deep through his nose, and about-faces, escaping out a side door and into the woods.

* * *

Mick wakes up surrounded by fire, which isn't exactly a first for him, but he's never wanted to run so badly from it. The house is coming down around him and his heart clenches because that's the last thing he ever wanted to burn. He tries to move but his body's not responding to him. He searches around him and terror spikes through him when he realizes that his body must be buried in ash, and shoves as much will through himself as he can muster until he's moving.

The tail that breaches the rubble shocks him into complete silence. He gets his hands free and they're not—this doesn't make any sense—how did—

 _Eat,_ his mind hums beneath his own panic. That same liquid-flame from earlier pools out of—out of him—out of scales that are covering his once-skin. It drifts away like streamers, eating into the remains of the house. He yells as though that would fucking stop it and his voice comes out in a roar. 

Mick shifts completely out, his bulk following impossibly. His back's too heavy and everything is _wrong_ and there's this sound in his head that won't quit, getting louder and louder until his thoughts are submerged and the buzzing's there, overwhelming. He moves with the desire of _hunger_ and this time he beckons the fire out of him, encasing the remains of the house.

He moves, unhurt by the fire, breaking down everything that he can reach, and sending out fire to anything he can't. 

He hears sound coming from beyond the flames, but it's white noise in his head. Still, he pulls further until he's climbing completely over the remains and there—he can _smell_ it. Flesh. Food. Fire drips out from his body and strikes out at the two figures. 

Attacks. Fights.

And then...

Then, Mick hunts.

His head is pounding the deeper he gets into the woods and he's _hearing_ things and paranoia's clawing up through his throat and he doesn't remember what happened, or where he is, he just wants to scream and push people away from him because no one can be trusted. _No one_.

In his head, Mick knows everything is wrong. He feels like he's in a box, banging to be heard, yelling and yelling until he's raw, but his actions aren't his. They're twisted up like a snake, aimed to poison, hurt, _break_ them. Len. Kendra. 

Mick hears whispers in his head, telling him things. Pushing his consciousness around. He's a puppet on strings but the strings are barbed wire and he's bleeding and his consciousness fades in and out but even then he's still throwing fire and heaving into Len, Len's voice all static to Mick.

He just wants—he just wants—

He throws Len away from him, not for the first time. Watches him crawl, dragging through blood, leaves, dirt. Mick's salivating flames and he's pursuing Len and the whispers in his head want one thing: to burn Len through, inside and out, like what happened to him. Then they can be the same again and things will be normal, Len won't have to be scared of him. This will fix it. 

No—

He has Len trapped, finally. He's injured enough, now. Can't run from Mick. Let him undo you, Len. Flesh, bone, muscle. Let him remake you, Len. 

No— _no_ — _no_ —

His blood boils and churns and Mick swallows down flames, barely able to contain in it within him, barely able to control himself as he kisses Len and this—this is more him than he thinks he could admit. This beast moves his limbs and dictates destruction and once, once that was Mick. Mick longed for that masterpiece that was Star City 2046, out of reach. He dreamed of it. Could taste in on his tongue, days later. It was his lullaby. His goal. His _everything_. 

Mick feels sick and for the first time, he hears Len's voice: “Mick, Mick _don't_.” 

That voice echoes through his mind, washing over the whispers that push him to do things he doesn't want. 

He can't, Len, don't you see? He can't win this fight. He keeps trying and he keeps losing and he's going to take you down with him, just like always. He wants to say he's sorry, but all that leaves him is that same feral sound. 

Len lurches away from him and _good_ , get away, Lenny, please. Get away from the fire, just like always. Be the smart one, just like—

“Mick,” Len's pleading and Mick's heart breaks, but he still finds the side of Len's face, anywhere he can reach, teeth near Len's ear and he _wants_. Him and his beast can agree on at least that much. “Stop, please.”

Only a little more, Mick's thoughts buzz. Only—

Len's face is damp. He's crying. Len doesn't cry. Mick's _never_ seen him cry, and maybe, sure, his time on the _Waverider_ 's changed him but not so much that Len's emotions could be in this much turmoil, spilling out everywhere for Mick to see. 

He doesn't hear Kendra's approach. He doesn't hear the cold gun. But he feels it, chillingly geysering into his back and those primal instincts take over in full, his tail his shield. He needs to kill her. If he kills her, everything will be fine. 

He releases fire from inside of him, meeting the cold and _yes_ , pushing it away. 

_Eat._

_Kill._

_Burn._

Once, after Len had been gone for months and Mick's house was nearly complete, Mick took a few of Len's books and walked off into a clearing where they had laid several large stone slabs and kept a bin of water. It was usually enough space to satisfy Mick's urges that still crept up on him at all hours of the day. He'd glanced at the titles of the books, disinterested except that he knew at least one was a favorite of Len's, and another still had a bookmark three-fourths of the way in. Len hadn't finished it yet.

It isn't exactly that he was _mad_ at Len. There was just that... that _itch_ , and enough of a trill of bitterness that caused Mick to drop the books and flick his lighter. 

“ _Mick_!” 

Mick had worked slowly with the books, sitting over them and holding the lighter into the corner of the cover, watching mesmerized as it bent and shriveled and blackened. Mick cooed at smoke and hummed at its peaceful crackling, holding it gingerly like it was a stuffed bear, transfixed. _“That's it,”_ he'd said, smiling. 

The flame separated from the cover and moved onto the pages, blurring ink of words Len had read time and time again, sometimes even softly reading aloud and Mick listened, following the casual thrum of Len's voice, absent of his drawl. He followed them like Len was singing to him and in Mick's head, that's what it was. 

“Mick, look at me!”

After the night air started to pick at the ashes from the book, Mick started in on the second one. The lighter flame was poised, dancing with the air and ashes, but Mick hesitated. He frowned. He thought when Len first brought him here, Len was going to abandon him. Walk off and never come back. But he did. Again and again, he came back. It may've been months, it may've been the longest Len's been gone, but... He would come back. 

He capped the lighter and stared, frowning, and while he stayed out there the rest of the night, he didn't conjure back that flame. Len would want to read these books, and Mick would want to listen. 

“You don't want this!”

Despite the ache of the cold, Mick turns and looks at Len. His tail drops when the cold gun cuts off, its charge needing a moment. He can hear Kendra's harsh breathing, see Len fading in and out, barely holding together. His claws stretch out. He wants to kill. He wants to see the world burn, and he can do it. He can finally, _finally_ do it. 

“This isn't you.”

It _isn't_. Len's right; Mick doesn't want this. While Len's been off fighting to save the world, Mick's been fighting to save himself. He's been able to stop himself from burning things, stifle down that obsession—how is this any different? It's the _same damn thing_ , wearing a disguise. 

Mick breathes out smoke.

“You're so much better than this.”

He watches Len even as Kendra's shooting him again, the cold overtaking all the heat holed up in his body, inside and out.

* * *

Len knows he's spooked Mick when he finds him, that gaze wild and startled and so many more emotions than Len can keep track of. He offers a small smile and walks up to where Mick sits on the stone slabs. “Good place for you to have ended up,” Len remarks, scuffing a foot at the stone.

“What're you doing here?” Mick slurs. “You're supposed to be halfway back to Central by now.”

Most of his body is still human. He's only lost a chunk back to that beast: left shoulder, down his arm, hand, part of his back where a few black spines jut outwards. Mick looks tired, exhausted from the pain, Len assumes. 

“All I did was take a small nature walk,” Len tells him. 

“You _idiot_ ,” Mick seethes. He tries to get up, but his body creaks and he relents, hunching back in on himself. “You have to get out of here.”

“I'm not leaving you again, Mick. I made that promise to myself.”

Mick scowls. “Lenny, please.”

“Thought you said you could control it?” Len asks.

“I—I don't know. It comes and goes. If it goes completely? I don't wanna hurt you again.”

“Well,” Len sighs. He moves to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Mick's still-human side. “You're not going to scare or push me away, sorry.” 

“If I kill you, I'm never going to forgive myself.”

“And if I _leave_ you, I'm never going to forgive _my_ self,” Len replies. “We're just going to have to figure this out and get over this impasse. I called STAR Labs before I found you. Only Jax has shown any signs of relapsing, though it sounds like they're smaller than yours. Scarlet's going to come out and get a blood sample, after he's dealt with some meta.”

Len leans more into Mick after he sees Mick hunch further. 

“Stop it. I know you must be in pain. Don't make it worse.”

“Don't know how to make it _better_ , Lenny.” He shifts, slowly easing out of himself. “Hunter said 'I can't hold it in.' Thought he was just being a dick. But I think I get it, y'know?”

Len frowns, worried.

Mick continues, “I could feel it, when we were fighting. Crawling about inside me, sayin' things. Makes a guy real paranoid, thinking he's hearing voices.” He sighs, then extracts his arm from Len and puts it around him. Len expects to be burned, but Mick's seemingly got a handle on regulating his body temperature; he's no warmer than usual. Len gets closer and stretches his legs out in front of him, listening to Mick talk.

“Not even voices, really. Like it's... just the sensation. Like a lightbulb moment. I know I've had the thought, but there's not really a voice to it. I just... know. What it wants.” 

“What does it want, Mick?” Len whispers, even though he doesn't want to ask.

“Everything I used to,” Mick answers. He tilts his head and meets Len's gaze. 

Len knows what that 'everything' means and his heart skips a beat. He'd hoped, sure, that one day Mick would find a way out of that constant desire for destruction, but he wasn't going to trick himself. Not again. He made that mistake back when they were both on the _Waverider_ and it was a mistake he never forgave himself for. 

“I wonder what Hunter was trying to hold in,” Mick muses. “Other than Savage.”

“Donno. None of you came out the same.” Len grins. “Like snowflakes.” 

Mick gives him a fond shake and Len's grin widens. “Like _snowflakes_. You ass.” He stares down at his left side, frowning. “Speedster's gonna be here soon?”

“It's Barry. It'll be anywhere between ten minutes and two hours, probably.”

Mick huffs a laugh. “Fair.” He turns slightly and pushes Len down onto the stone, making Len let out a laugh of his own. Mick stretches out on his front, careful of his spines, and lays half on, half next to Len. 

“What, you're a lizard now?” Len jokes.

“'m'not a lizard, or a dragon, or whatever,” Mick's muffled voice answers. “Or a snowflake.”

Len wraps an arm around his back. He runs a finger up along the nearest spine, morbidly fascinated. After a few minutes, Mick's breathing evens out. It eases Len, knowing Mick's getting some semblance of sleep. “Nah,” he says to himself, head turned to watch Mick doze, “you're just Mick.”

**Author's Note:**

> No two monster's the same.
> 
> This somehow ended sappy which I guess is better than how the last one ended.
> 
> I'm still sorry, Rip. Really. I swear.


End file.
